Stick With Me, Kid, and We'll Go Places
by Doodling Shadows
Summary: Harry Potter knew very little about America, so of course his 'family' had to take a vacation there right when the zombie apocalypse hit. He's only ten and he's already fighting for his life. Joy.
1. Chapter 1

**Stick With Me, Kid, and We'll Go Places**

 **HP x TWD**

 **Characters: TWD cast + Harry**

 **Summary: _Harry_ _Potter knew very little about America, so of course his 'family' had to take a vacation there right when the zombie apocalypse hit. He's only ten and he's already fighting for his life. Joy._**

 **Chapter 1 Word Count: 2,570**

* * *

Harry Potter really hated Halloween. This latest incident may have been the biggest, but it was only one in a long strand of incidents since his first birthday. Most were relatively small, like a broken bone or a particularly horrid punishment from his Aunt and Uncle, but something always happened.

This year, fate decided that a zombie apocalypse was a good idea. It also dictated that it happened around the time that his Aunt and Uncle and Dudley were out of their hotel room.

Joy. He was on his own. Again.

Harry leaned out the hotel window, peering down at the pure chaotic destruction happening down below. A hidden part of him hoped his 'family' had been caught in the mess. If nothing else, he hoped they were stuck in traffic. Served them right. They may not have beat them, but in the best of cases, they neglected him, and borderline abused him; he knew at least that much from all the crime shows that his uncle loved to watch late at night while he tried to sleep in his cubby.

Children are to be loved unconditionally, and not shunned because of something they couldn't help. Especially because of who their parents were or how they came to be on their doorstep. Aunt Petunia never quite explained that event to him, but he had heard her once whispering about it to his uncle. Something about 'his kind' or whatever.

Either way, they were gone. Probably for good. Oh, he hoped. He wasn't religious, as his relatives never entertained the idea, but he was close to praying for them to never come back. Not necessarily die, just… disappear from his life.

Far below his fifth story viewpoint, the street was littered with corpses (some dead, and some… not so dead) and abandoned vehicles. Several car alarms blared, providing background noise as the city was completely ravaged by the undead.

Harry glanced at the electric clock provided for their room. 12:30. Hmm… so maybe Atlanta was having a lunch rush for the undead? Oh, sue him. It's been several hours of this carnage, which really isn't as exciting as you make think, so he had a right to start making jokes. Maybe there was something to be said, considering a ten-year-old like him had already become desensitized to the carnage after only a few hours.

And yes, the town below was Atlanta, Georgia.

Unfortunately, his Uncle had won a trip to the Six Flags in Atlanta, and when he revealed this news to the family—of course, Dudley, the spoiled pig he is—demanded that they go. The stay lasted two weeks, so Ms. Figg couldn't look after him, not to mention it would be extremely suspicious. Therefore, he was brought along, under the orders that he act as normal as possible, no freakish stuff.

So now, Harry Potter was over four thousand miles from England. He was in a completely different country without any viable knowledge of the surroundings, during an apocalypse, without supplies or anyone else he could rely on. He really loved the sound of that.

The only pro he could see would be the unlikelihood he would ever see his 'family' again.

Far below, someone screamed.

* * *

Two weeks passed by rather uneventfully. In order to keep himself safe, he slept in the bathtub with the bathroom door closed, as a second protection to keep the undead from getting to him. He also kept several of his cousin's snacks with him, eating them when he was hungry. For entertainment, he stared out the window. Once, he even tried to hit a few undead with the really expensive pens the hotel provided. Also the bible - that one actually managed to knock off one's head. Hmmm… wrath of God indeed, the bloody wanker.

He ran out of food on day seven. Dudley had mostly packed chips and the like, but thankfully his Uncle had won an expensive trip, and with its expensive hotel room also came a mini-fridge packed with water bottles, a loaf of bread, and some packaged lunch meat (the last two items were actually stored by the Dursleys). While the pipes ran, electricity did not, so the meat spoiled completely by day two, and only half the loaf was left behind anyway. Even being conservative, the food did not last long.

While Harry was rather accustomed to going without food, seven days pushed past his limit.

The streets were still flooded with the undead, but there wasn't near the same amount of carnage as the first day, and those that were moving around were far more vicious when it came to finding food.

Once, near dawn, when he had chanced a look outside, a woman had just darted out of an alleyway, probably escaping from an apartment building. She was bitten in seconds, and the undead spared her no mercy as they ruthlessly tore her open and spilled her innards. That had been day five after running out of food. He had, for once, been glad that his stomach was empty.

Also, the undead had begun to gather around his door, if the groans were anything to go by. He could distinguish at least five different pitches, and that honestly freaked him out.

He had to get out of here, preferably soon.

He didn't even consider the door, as surrounded by undead as it was. Instead, he leaned out the window, farther than he had a week ago, to peer around for an escape route. On his right, a fancy office building stood, sharing an alleyway with the hotel. On the first day, he had heard a large crash of glass come from that direction, so his hopes laid on the possibility of there being a broken window. Unfortunately, the hotel room Harry was in faced the street, and not the alleyway, so he had no way of making sure. He didn't even have a safe way to reach said hypothetical window.

When he looked down, stretching his small body over the windowsill, he saw chaos and destruction and dozens of the undead, but before that, he saw the ledges that wrapped around the building, connecting each level of windows and leaving him a possible, if very, very narrow pathway. He grimaced and continued to search for options, but when he found none, his thoughts returned to the ledges.

The thought of becoming a human pancake did not appeal to him, but he had little option besides waiting for it all to blow over in a relatively dingy hotel room, and he did not have the supplies for that.

He looked back out the window and down at the street. The groans from behind the door echoed in his ears, inciting a spark of instinctual terror within him. He grimaced, and reluctantly decided his next course of action. With as much energy as he could muster, he hopped back into the room and rushed to the double beds (of course he had to sleep on the floor because poor Duddykins shouldn't have to share a bed with a freak), tearing off their sheets and blankets with several hard pulls. With weak but nimble hands, he set to work.

About an hour later, he had created a, hastily made but well knotted, long rope made of bedsheets and blankets, tying one end to the bed closest to the window. After another thirty minutes where he filled up three water bottles with the running (albeit slightly dirty) water from the bathroom sink and packed a small carry-on his 'family' had brought with soap, a couple shirts and pants (which took up too much room, if he was to be honest), and a first aid kit he had found while rooting around in the bathroom, he finally started his grand escape.

* * *

Being the quickest and most street-smart person of the group (he had been a pizza delivery boy, after all), Glenn had, of course, volunteered to do runs into Atlanta. Therefore, he found himself two hours later crawling through downtown Atlanta like it was a dungeon in an MMORPG, packing three empty duffel bags for the items he ran across.

However, he did not volunteer to risk his life for anything but supplies. This run was to be an in-and-out job, with very little walker interaction. But then he ran down an alleyway, and barely avoided being sent tumbling by a boy falling from the sky. He only just managed to duck out of the way, slamming himself against the other side of the alley in his panicked haste. His left shoulder throbbed at the impact, and he clenched his jaw to avoid making any noise.

When he came over his surprise and pain, he looked on in astonishment at the scene in front of him. The boy couldn't have been older than maybe eight - nine if he was pushing it - with dark locks and emerald eyes the color of Starfire's magic, and he was suspended three feet off the ground with what looked like hastily knotted together bedsheets.

"Hi!" The boy cheekily said, smiling widely and slightly swinging on his improvised rope. "M' names Harry… um… Could you please get me down?"

Glenn blinked a couple times, pinching his arm when that didn't dispel the crazy scene in front of him. The kid smiled nervously.

After a second, Glenn finally snapped to.

"Oh! Um, right." Glenn stuttered out, hastily climbing to his feet. It looked like a couple of walkers had noticed them, and they were slowly ambling their way, jaws flexing at the prospect of a meal. Thankfully, they were still several meters off. With jittery movements, he untied the kid's messy knot (he really just ended up grabbing his knife to cut it off) and helped him down.

When he looked up, he noticed the bedsheets trailed off around the building, and it looked like the only thing keeping Harry from being walker food had been a cracked window ledge, where one bed sheet had caught and saved his life. Man, looking at what that kid must have done… he had guts.

"Look out, mister!" the kid whispered, tugging the man's arms. "They're getting really close!"

Oh right, that.

Glenn snatched the kid up (he was really light, and if they were in any other situation he might be suspicious) and began to book it to the other end of the alleyway, stepping as lightly as he could so that he didn't disturb the broken glass littering the pavement. Once he began to actually move, the walkers who had taken notice started their pursuit, jaws snapping hungrily and groans growing in sound and frequency. The noise, in turn, attracted more walkers, several more of the nasty undead shuffling into the alley.

Feeling cold sweat beginning to bead down his back, he took a crooked step and swerved right, shimmying into a tighter alleyway between two opposite facing buildings. The walkers, being a far cry from precise coordination, had a much harder time crawling in after them, so by the time they exited into a larger alleyway, only a couple of the undead were following them, and these were quickly lost when he slipped into another small alleyway.

By the time Glenn decided that they were secure enough, they were nearly five blocks from the hotel and the two were sequestered away into an abandoned shopping mall via a back door. On a previous run, he had cleared out this place, so it made a very convenient hideaway and supplier. Once inside, he carefully set the kid down amongst several racks of clothing before plopping down himself.

"Okay, kid -"

"It's Harry. Harry Potter… Sir."

"Okay, Harry," Glenn huffed, giving the kid an unamused stare. "The name's Glenn. You mind telling me what exactly happened back there?"

Harry squirmed, a blush dusting his cheeks. "Well, uh… G-Glenn… My relatives and I won a trip to Six Flags, so we were staying in a hotel. My relatives were out when this all happened, so I was kinda… trapped in that room. I ran out of food several days ago, so I was pretty desperate, sir. I'm sorry for dropping in on you -" He chuckled when Glenn intensified his previous unamused stare. "- but I really am grateful! If you weren't there… I'm not sure what would have happened to me."

Glenn looked over the kid's grimy appearance, noting the too-big clothes and the too-thin frame. Even if he hadn't eaten for a few days, no kid should be that skinny if they had been a healthy weight beforehand, not to mention if they were stuck in a hotel room for those days. The kid's use of the word "relative" also gave him some seriously suspicious vibes.

"Wait, you've been in that hotel room since the world went to shit?" He was so surprised that he didn't even try to hide or apologize for the curse that slipped from his mouth. Although the boy flinched, he didn't seem upset at the curse word itself.

"Uh… u-uh… yes…"

Glenn whistled, his eyes focusing on the small duffel bag hanging across the boy's chest. "And you thought ahead to bring supplies. I'm impressed, kid. How old are you?"

"T-ten."

He raised his eyebrows and scrutinized the kid a little harder. "Huh. Really?"

Harry's face scrunched up and he narrowed his eyes. The kid was probably trying to intimidate him or something, but Glenn just thought it cute. "Yes, I'm ten! My birthday is July 31, 2000, and I've been ten for three months!"

"Okay! Okay! D-Don't cry!" Glenn quickly backpedaled when Harry's green eyes began to shine, and he tried to give the kid a reassuring grin. "Aaaanyway… um… since you're all alone, you want to help me?"

"Why do you need my help?" Harry tilted his head slightly, furrowing his brows in confusion.

Glenn sat up properly and grabbed the bags from his shoulders. "Well, I'm doing a supply run for my group, and I figure that four hands are better than two, right? You can help pack some canned goods - as many as you can fit in this here duffel - also grab you some proper clothes while you're at it - and I'll handle the rest of the items in this shop. Then I need to check and see if the closest pharmacy has supplies, and grab at least some disinfectant cream, bandages, and the like. After that, we can go back to where my group is hiding out... What about it?"

Glenn carefully held out his hand to the younger boy, who stared at it for a long while. Eventually, after several seconds of awkward silence, Harry looked into his eyes and delivered a blinding smile. "Sure!" Hands were shaken and the deal was made.

"Stick with me, kid, we'll go places." And boy did he feel cheeky making jokes, but what were you to do when the undead are rising? Play dead? Fat chance.

"My name is _Harry_!"

Glenn laughed. Things were going to get interesting, he could just tell.

If only he knew just how interesting.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay! Hello! This is my first official crossover that I will be writing, and hoooo boy am I excited! This little plot bunny burrowed into my mind and since it hasn't moved out in the last few months, I've decided to take a chance and write it down. Be aware that at this first chapter posting, very little has actually been put down in terms of plot. I have a few stakes, but I need to gather the rest of the tent if it's going to be any good, especially for protection against walkers, so please be patient with me.**

 **Anywho, I decided to mix up the formula a bit when it comes to TWD x HP crossovers. This will not have ANY romance in it. It will mostly be fluff with some action and plot blanketed over it. Also, I wanted to write a young Harry, and while I do not believe I succeeded in ANY form of the word, I hope it's acceptable. Also, Glenn, who in my mind has to be at least a little nerdy. I mean, c'mon. It's _adorable._**

 **Happy Writing~!**

 **_-*Doodling Shadows**

 **EDITED 2/17/2019**


	2. Chapter 2

**Stick With Me, Kid, and We'll Go Places**

 **HP x TWD**

 **Characters: TWD cast + Harry**

 **Summary: _Harry_ _Potter knew very little about America, so of course his 'family' had to take a vacation there right when the zombie apocalypse hit. He's only ten and he's already fighting for his life. Joy._**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, Harry Potter, or ANY of the brand name products mentioned in this chapter.**

 **Chapter 2 Word Count: ~3,421**

* * *

"Kid, grab as many of the vegetables and beans as you can. Protein and fiber will be precious since we aren't able to get fresh produce, and beans will definitely fill you up, even if they make you gassy. Also, grab any spam or similar canned meat that you can - it'll be a Godsend whenever prey starts to become scarce."

Harry followed Glenn's directions as best as he could, listening to the scratchy voice on the other side of the walkie-talkie. Thankfully, while searching the security station for any type of weapon, they had found the old and blocky communication devices with plenty of juice in them. Glenn had been confident in the safety of the building, which was more of a glorified one-level mall than anything else, so the two had split up once communication was secure. That didn't help Harry's nervousness, though, so he regularly talked to the older boy.

Because of his relatives' neglect, he had hardly any knowledge of what could be considered healthy or not. Arguably more important and unfortunate, however, was the fact that his aunt had been a staunch rival of canned vegetables, preferring to buy them fresh. Oh, but she was more than willing to give him the slightly wilted leftovers her 'boys' refused. Bleh.

Therefore, Harry was stuck to following Glenn's advice on food. Apparently, the boy had been a pizza delivery man and, having been working in the food business since he was sixteen, and he had a vast knowledge of nutrition.

As Glenn had said, "Sometimes, you have to pick between the cheap and the healthy food. But if you're smart, you can do both. I was smart. Not smart enough to find a job besides being a pizza delivery guy, but smart enough to survive while doing so."

Harry didn't really get all of what he meant by all that, but he trusted the teen's advice anyway.

"M' name's Harry," he grumbled under his breath for probably the fifteenth time, reaching both of his small hands up to grab a large can, bringing it in his arms to reveal the label: Green Giant - Green Beans and Potatoes. Currently, he was scavenging the small canned goods section in a small Dollar General, and he couldn't remember a time where he was so glad for his age and height. When others had ravaged the shelves, they had mostly just grabbed what was at adult-height, so he had full reign of anything below three feet, although the stuff on the top shelf tended to be a pain even though it was available as well. "What about potatoes? Aren't they high in carbo-whatevers?"

"Ah, yes!" Glenn's voice crackled loudly in the otherwise silent shop. "Potatoes are a staple food, and they are rich in carbohydrates and calories. They are also delicious, and a favorite of many people. Grab them too."

"Okay!"

Harry continued to search the shelves, stuffing the duffel at his feet with numerous goods. When he ran out of cans to pack, he switched to other packaged foods that would be good for the long-haul.

"Hey… Glenn?"

"Yeah?"

"How long do you think this stuff will last?" By stuff, he didn't mean the food, and Glenn knew that too.

The voice on the other end didn't respond for a while, so Harry shuffled around and grabbed several boxes of pasta while he waited, ripping open their tops and snatching the plastic-wrapped goods within. Boxes took up more room than they had, after all.

"I'm not sure, Harry," Glenn finally said, his voice soft and his tone hesitant. "Could be a few more weeks, but I think it'll be a lot longer than that."

"Why do you think that?" he inquired, shifting the goods in his duffel around so that none of the items would get smashed when it was carried.

"... You saw a lot from outside your hotel window, right?"

"Uh-huh. I got a really good view because I was on the third floor. There was lots of undead, and a lot of people... uh… died…" Oh, okay, now he did feel really bad about making jokes while he was locked up in the hotel room.

"Well… um… This stuff is happening all over the world. At least, that's what we suspect, from all the rumors and news reports before the official outbreak. If it's anywhere as bad out there as it is here, in Atlanta, then a lot of people have died. And I mean a lot."

"How many?" Harry moved on to rice after running to grab some large ziplock bags, starting a process similar to the pasta. Rip open the top, grab a bag, pour, zip, and put in the duffel. An almost methodical rhythm hummed through his skin, and for a moment, he could almost forget all the carnage he had witnessed the last two weeks. Almost.

"I… I don't know? Definitely somewhere in the upper millions range, but I'm betting that whatever this is, it's probably wiped out over half of the human population by now, so probably almost 4 billion."

"Oh. That is a lot…"

"Yeah…"

The conversation dropped like a hot rock after Glenn's words, and Harry continued his gathering, a little more somber than before. About ten minutes later, he finally threw in the last package of rice he could fit within the duffel and tested its weight. Harry sighed and resigned himself to some hard work.

"Hey… Glenn?"

"... Yeah?"

"I'm glad I found you."

The walkie talkie crackled loudly at his hip, almost as if it had been dropped.

"I… I'm glad, too."

Harry allowed a small, private smile to creep across his face. Grunting slightly, he heaved the stuffed duffel with as much power as he could manage and left the store, heading towards the stairs. According to their plans, Glenn should be in the clothing store upstairs.

Oh… the stairs…

* * *

The first things that caught Harry's eyes once he caught up to Glenn had been a pair of shoes. A pair of thick, rubber-soled tennis shoes. They were a bit big on his feet, but Harry didn't mind. Their price tag spelled out a three digit number, and they came in three very distinctive colors: grey, black, and green. They were soft and comfortable and when he showed them to Glenn, the older boy had smiled and told him that they would be really helpful on tough terrain.

Immediately, Harry had tossed away his own worn tennis shoes with their grimy exterior and rubbed thin soles.

Unfortunately, Glenn couldn't convince Harry to get anything else after that, so enamored by the shoes the boy was. Instead, he decided that they might as well stop for a break. When he had found the boy, it had been around eleven am, so it must have been closing in around lunch.

Glenn inwardly winced when he remembered the state the boy was in, and how long it must have been since he had eaten… and he was so thin in the first place…

"Hey, Harry."

"Yeah, Glenn?" And lord almighty were Harry eyes able to shine. Given a few years to grow and gain some actual muscle and fat, this boy was going to be a lady killer, Glenn was betting on it.

"Let's eat."

If Harry's eyes had shined before, they practically glowed now, and Glenn couldn't keep his heart from aching at the thought of what his home situation had been before. He made a silent vow to himself to make sure this boy survived this shit hole.

It had both been hilarious and sad how excited Harry was each time Glenn introduced him to something he hadn't tried before, especially when they were items like Kraft Mac and Cheese, which he _still_ eats sometimes, even as an adult.

Yeah, if anyone deserved to survive, it was Harry.

* * *

Maybe Glenn should have been more careful. Maybe he should have taken a detour. Maybe he should have scouted ahead before bringing Harry and the supplies along. He should have used his brain. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, everyone said.

As it was, Glenn had just dashed past a rather slow smattering of zombies only to run into a blockade made of army jeeps and a singular tank. There was also a rather large and suspicious sinkhole in the pavement that housed several undead stupid enough to fall over the edge. If he was lucky, that might work into his favor on another run.

No, the problem happened to be what was behind those military vehicles. Yes, his camp was along the road ahead, but what he didn't think of was the possibility of there being a zombie pile-up—a living, rotting, the pile of undead feasting on a corpse that had been living maybe only an hour ago—which there was.

When he had come through this area just earlier that morning, the streets were filled with walkers, but without something to eat, they were rather scattered and overall harmless to him as long as he moved fast enough. Two things had changed in the five hours he had been in Atlanta that now caused his previous plan to scatter in the breeze.

One: he now had one other person to look out for, so he couldn't just grab the bags and make a mad dash. Well, he could, but then he'd be leaving an innocent, probably abused ten-year-old boy alone in a zombie infested city with no means of survival. He would never forgive himself if he broke a promise so quickly, no matter if it had been promised aloud or not.

Two; someone else (possibly more than one, if the massive pileup was to be believed) had come to Atlanta for probably the same reason as him, and they had been taken down. Right now, they were providing an adequate distraction, but one wrong move in this situation could cause a nasty mob of undead attackers to descend on them like a flurry of wasps. He had a couple of knives strapped to his hips, but that would not protect them from more than an occasional wanderer.

Therefore, once they squeezed past the wandering loners that littered the streets, they had been forced to duck between two closely parked vehicles to avoid being spotted. Harry had objected at the harsh tug on his sleeve, but Glenn slapped a hand over his mouth, effectively silencing him. Those bright green orbs had narrowed on him in indignation but quickly looked down when Glenn quietly told him what was ahead.

"We need to be quiet and quick. Here, you hold the bag of clothes - it's the lightest - here, carry it like this. Now, when I tell you to go, you go."

Harry's eyes widened when Glenn slipped a knife free from its holder and held it out, handle first, to him.

"Use this if you have to. Aim for the brain. Just try to be quick and not get caught. If we get separated, find somewhere safe and contact me with the walkie-talkie, okay?"

Harry tentatively accepted the knife and gripped it with his right hand, fingering the leather handle with reverent awe. After a second where he marveled at the weapon given to him, the raven-haired boy nodded his head, locking emerald orbs with dark chocolate.

Glenn nodded as well and took another peek around the vehicle. "Okay… three… two… one… go!" he whispered, hissing the last word. With his left hand gripping his own blade, Glenn grabbed Harry's left hand with his right and propelled both of them forward into the mess ahead.

He regretted his choice almost immediately after making it. Not even a few feet from the vehicle, there lay a corpse which for all intents and purposes had seemed to be well and truly dead to his eye, with half of its jaw caved in and its lower half mauled beyond recognition. Unlike its brethren swarming a few meters away, this one had decided to be sneaky. Well, as sneaky as a foul-smelling, rotting creature could be.

Upon getting close enough to the corpse, its eyes opened and revealed sickly yellow irises. A haunting gurgling scream tore from its mangled throat, and without proper warning, its only arm lashed out to snatch its idiotic meal. Torn, yellow fingernails attached to rotting fingers snagged a far-too baggy pants leg, and with emaciated muscles, it pulled.

Harry screamed when the monstrosity seized the fabric sagging around his right leg. The walker had unbalanced Harry with its efforts, and before Glenn could truly latch onto the boy, Harry fell to the ground, kicking his legs blindly. The small dagger flew out of his hands and skittered across the pavement, coming to a stop only a foot away from the closest zombie, who slowly turned in their direction. A low groan rattled past its teeth as it eyed them with only one good eye (the other had been torn out, swinging nauseatingly from a hollow socket by a thin strand of connective tissue).

Several more groans responded to Harry's cry, and Glenn cursed under his breath. Shit. Shit, shit, shiiiiit!

With his own dagger, Glenn doubled back and stabbed the walker through one of its lifeless eyes. While the corpse had been able to cause Harry's fall, it, unfortunately, did not have the energy to bring the boy closer to his mouth, so it had only been able to gnaw on the fistful of fabric it had snagged. It had really looked pitiful if he was being honest with himself.

Glenn then jerked Harry to his feet and readjusted the bags on his back. Food. Hygiene products and Medicine. Clothes…

While making this decision, at least ten more of the piled up undead had turned their heads in their direction, each one rattling off a groan that echoed in his ears.

Glenn shoved off one of his two duffels and with a decisive slice, cut off Harry's. While medicine and hygienics were important, food had to be salvaged above all. Therefore, he removed the unnecessary weight and without the two extra duffel bags slowing him down, he reached down to grab Harry and slung him over the shoulder unburdened by food.

They had to get out of here as soon as possible.

Harry was all but sobbing on Glenn's shoulder as they fled back into Atlanta proper, letting out a gasp every time Glenn had to hop over a car or swerve out of a grasping limb or hungry jaw. The undead who had turned their way now begun to chase them with fever, their gurgling rattles and pathetic groans stirring a frenzy in the other walkers. Before Glenn could figure out a good escape strategy, several dozen walkers had already started culminating into a mob. Their decaying visages and frenzied movements, so uncoordinated as they were, stirred a boiling pot of panic in his gut.

Several swerves and ducks into side streets or alleys only dwindled the numbers by a few each, as the zombies were far too hungry and desperate to be as slow as they usually were, and those that fell were only trampled by the next two undead, like some perverted form of the hydra.

Glenn felt his legs try to tremble, but he forced himself to keep going. Harry had his hands fisted into the older boy's shirt, and if Glenn hadn't been working up such a sweat, he might have even thought that Harry was well and truly crying. Heck, he probably ways, but his mind could only focus on escaping. Getting out. Finding safety. Protecting Harry.

This was Harry's first day up close to walkers. This was Harry's first day trying peanut butter (and hadn't that been funny, watching him try and unstick the butter glued to the roof of his mouth). This was Harry's first day with brand new shoes that didn't fall apart or come as hand-me-downs. If he was believed, this was Harry's first day of true freedom from his relatives.

Harry was his responsibility now. It didn't matter that he had only met Harry maybe five hours ago, or that this kid has caused more trouble than he was expecting when he came into Atlanta. It didn't matter that this kid wasn't his little brother, because sometimes during those few, precious hours, he had begun to felt like one. Someone he could connect to and joke with, someone who didn't judge him for his race or his job or his nerdiness (well, he hadn't exactly let that shine yet, so he wasn't too sure on that point). Harry was Harry, and he knew too well how it felt to be hurt and judged, and that made him all the more precious to keep alive.

If anyone deserved to survive this world, it was the small raven-haired boy with bright green eyes and glasses too big for his face, a curious scar hidden under his untidy bangs, and a smile that could light up a city.

With determination, Glenn kicked up his speed, ever so slowly outpacing the mob behind him. A few blocks down, there was an apartment building with its front caved in. If luck was with him, the fire escape would be operational. Oh please let luck be on his side!

Three blocks…

Two blocks…

One block…

A series of shots rang out from a nearby building, and Glenn dropped to the ground and crawled behind a dumpster, wielding his knife with a shaking grip. When he peeked out from behind his hidey hole, the shots were still ringing, but the undead were dropping! Like dead flies, no less. In each and every fallen zombie's heads, a bullet hole leaked rotten and coagulated blood and brains.

The best part was that, since the shot was coming from so far away, the undead were not flocking to him! Instead, their focuses seemed to be set towards the north, where he could just barely make out a figure on a run-down shopping mall.

Glenn felt his heart stutter in his chest, and he carefully lowered Harry from his shoulders, setting the boy on the ground as gently as he could manage with his trembling limbs.

"Are you alright?" he whispered, grasping the boy's arms. Harry shakily nodded, biting his lips and altogether trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. "Hey… hey… look at me," he softly commanded, catching the boy's eyes. "We are alright. We are okay. Someone has saved us." He repeated those words over and over very quietly until Harry slowly relaxed.

"Yo, _el burro_!"

Aaaand Harry tensed up again. Great.

He slowly moved his eyes from Harry's face and focused on the man backed by two others standing several feet from them. The man looked Hispanic, and while Glenn didn't speak Spanish, the accent told him enough to confirm that he probably was. He carried himself proudly and wore a few pieces of jewelry that were only slightly gaudy. Did the guy not get the memo that it was the end of the world? The two men behind him were less identifiable by race, but still rather intimidating with their size and biker-gang-esque looks.

He eyed them up and down once more before finally replying. "Yeah?"

"What the hell you thinkin', man? Draggin' a kid through all that?"

Glenn didn't deign to answer him, but he did force himself off the pavement so that he was in a standing position. He then looked Harry over once more, making sure that none of the walkers managed to bite him. He even double checked his leg, but like he thought, the walker hadn't gotten anything but his pants leg, which had been torn down the side. Now the kid definitely couldn't object to grabbing some actual clothes.

He still needed to get the kid to cough up his family life, but that could be saved for another day.

The man coughed rather loudly and gestured them into the slightly safer alleyway. With reluctant footsteps, he followed, keeping Harry behind him. When they were situated in the small but walker free alley, the men turned back around and leveled him with a glare.

"What's your name, _el burro_? _Yo soy_ Guillermo. "

"My name's Glenn, and this is... Kid."

For just a moment, Harry perked up, if only to slap Glenn's leg and say, "It's Harry! How many times do I have to tell you? It' H, a, r, r, y! Harry!"

Glenn smiled at Harry before refocusing on Guillermo.

"So, what's your story, boy-o?"

* * *

 **A/N: Omishinigami, I was _not_ expecting for all the attention I got with this story! This honestly was more of a fic I wanted to write for personal enjoyment, but I am so, so, _so glad_ that you guys are enjoying it, too! At the time of writing this A/N (less than _twenty-four_ _hours_ after CH 1's posting) I have received 30 Favs, 55 Followers, and 6 reviews, not to mention that _TWO_ of you wonderful people put me on your communities! ... I kind of feel like crying out of happiness! =TwT=**

 **This chapter was already worked out ahead of time, so I quickly wrote it up (about eight hours or so) and therefore it's a little hot off the plate, so expect a couple typos (I'll fix them soon, I promise)! Also, I kinda just added Guillermo into the plot to A) spice it up a bit, and B) because I really, _really_ wanted to write some Guillermo, because I think he's precious, and he's fun to write (I'll really have to exercise my Spanish skills for him, but bring it on!).**

 **Happy Writing~!**

 **_-*Doodling Shadows**

 **EDITED 2/17/2019**


	3. Chapter 3

**Stick With Me, Kid, and We'll Go Places**

 **HP x TWD**

 **Characters: TWD cast + Harry**

 **Summary: _Harry_ _Potter knew very little about America, so of course his 'family' had to take a vacation there right when the zombie apocalypse hit. He's only ten and he's already fighting for his life. Joy._**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, Harry Potter, or ANY of the brand name products mentioned in this chapter.**

 **Chapter 3 Word Count: ~3,414**

* * *

 _"So what's your story, boy-o?"_

Guillermo glanced between the two misfits, keeping his body relaxed as he waited for their response. The niño seemed extremely shy, despite the playful fire he showed, and even though he kept close to el burro, there looked to be a slight wall between them, something that suggested they had only met recently in this post-apocalyptic world. The Korean watched him wearily as he processed this information, probably weighing his options. Smart. Maybe he wasn't such an idiot after all.

"We won't try to stop you if you run," he stated, breaking the silence, "but don't expect us to save your asses again if you do." The way that Glenn twitched indicated that was exactly what he had been thinking. "You have a group you need to get back to?" The question had been innocent enough, but he wasn't surprised at the tell-tale flinch on the other man's features. He hummed.

"Your little stunt has probably riled up all the _cadávers_ in a mile-radius, so it's not gonna be safe to run through these streets right now without serious backup, boy-o."

"What are you suggesting?" Glenn asked, his voice low and his body tensed.

"A favor for a favor, that's all. We protected you, and in return, you can help us. If you do, we'll make sure you make it to the edge of the town safely. Simple."

The Korean hesitated, furrowing his brows and taking a small step backward. Harry copied him, keeping a tight hold on Glenn's shirt. "What kind of favor?"

Guillermo shrugged, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. "We've been watching you, and we saw you scurrying through the streets like a little rat. There's a hospital a couple miles out - _mucho grande_ \- and we need supplies. We can provide transportation, but the courtyard is crawling with _cadávers_. We need someone sneaky to gather what we need. You. _¿Comprendes?_ "

"Th-that's a lot to ask…"

"Hey. We saved your lives, and in return, you should help us protect some of ours. Besides, you can take some of the haul back to your amigos. We ain't heartless."

Glenn hesitated for a total of another thirty seconds before letting out a long sigh, slumping forward. "Okay… what's the plan?"

Guillermo gave a small smile, signaling for his men to head home. "We'll start in the morning. For now, you can hang with us."

* * *

Was this what a family felt like?

Guillermo's group had only begun to really take route in this zombie-ridden world they lived in, but the mechanic warehouse they set up exuded a comfortable atmosphere. At least, that was Harry's opinion as their savior opened the front and greeted his men with equality - even reached down to hug an older woman visiting with a teenager bent over a car engine.

While his men eyed Glenn and him with wary eyes, they did not outright emit any hostility, just an understandable amount of cautiousness. Harry didn't know how to feel, being in an environment with a group of people who didn't outright distrust him or eye him with disgust. On one hand, he felt completely out of his environment, but at the same time, a small, deep part of him slowly uncoiled in relief.

Ever since he could remember, his Aunt and Uncle had given him glares and tossed him in his cubby whenever he acted out of turn, sometimes not retrieving him until they couldn't ignore the smell of piss or dirt any longer—at which point they would give him disgusted looks and have him clean the mess. He hated that cubby; it was dark and stuffy, and whenever he was forced to go there, he was unable to exit unless it was on his relatives' good will.

The two weeks they had been in Atlanta could be a blessing, if only for the fact that he was so far away from that horrible place, and he would never return. The thought of returning to a unit, let alone one as familiar as Guillermo's, had given him anxiety, but the wide open space and actions of the group assuaged his fears like a cold balm.

He tightened his fingers around Glenn's pants before pushing off the older boy's leg, taking a few unsteady steps away from his closest source of comfort. Glenn gave him a sidelong glance, eyes slightly widened in surprise. Harry smiled before walking towards the boy slaving over an engine, fully aware of Glenn hesitantly shadowing him, but ignoring it because he actually felt slightly safe in the Vatos' place. As grimy and sweaty as it was, these people had, in some way, already started to feel somewhat safe enough to start calling this place home. Call it a gut feeling, but it was there. The harmony of these people, the small bonds stretching between them - there must have been something between them before, but the apocalypse had already begun to strengthen whatever bonds they had.

"'Lo! M' name's Harry!" With careful movements, he slowly clambered up the car's front and peered down at the engine, curious of what the boy was working on. Apparently, Harry had been so quiet, that upon opening his mouth, he gave the boy such a fright that he jumped, banging his head against the car's hood. The older lady perched on a chair chuckled at the boy's pain.

The boy looked to be about seventeen years old, with bright blue eyes, caramel skin, and messy black hair that floated around his shoulders. The boy wasn't anywhere near scrawny, but instead, he had a lithe build overlain by a dark brown tank spotted with grease.

"Fuck! Hey, man, why you sneakin' up on me like… that?" The boy had fully turned Harry's way, and upon the new face and unsure smile, paused his thought process.

"M' Harry! Hullo!" he repeated. "What's your name?"

The boy blinked several times and then did a funny impression of a startled animal, glancing all around for answers before zeroing back in on its target. Harry.

"Uh… why's there a Brit kid here?"

Glenn thankfully spoke up on this one, saving Harry the trouble of explaining the last two weeks for himself. "I'm Glenn. He's with me, and we're here because of Guillermo."

"Huh." The boy silently appraised Glenn before returning to his car engine, for all intents and purposes planning to ignore them.

Harry frowned, leaning back from the engine and pouting. "It's polite to give your name when someone asks..."

The boy scoffed, burying himself further in his machinery. "You guys won't be 'round long enough to remember it anyway."

The nice old lady heaved an exasperated sigh before answering for him. "His name's Samuel, but he prefers Sam. And you can call me Abuela, Harry." If Harry had been a dog, he might as well have been wagging his tail, because the old lady seemed so nice and friendly and he just wanted to run up and ask her lots of questions, but he refrained. Years of neglect and broken trust chained down his impulse to cling to a friendly face.

His Aunt and Uncle never liked it when he asked questions - most adults never did. There was that one time in preschool where the teacher got really annoyed at his questions and had him sit in the corner for five minutes. He had wanted to ask why her hair had turned blue when he turned around, but it seemed that she didn't know either. Also, he was sure that asking would have gotten him into even more trouble. So he didn't.

Glenn was different though. He's only been an adult for a couple years, so Harry guessed that he still had time before he became anywhere near as grouchy as his teacher. Glenn was nice and helpful, and funny too. Sometimes he tried to make a joke that Harry didn't get, and he would only laugh because of the older boy's face. Glenn didn't treat him like his Aunt or Uncle, and he was forever grateful. However, that didn't mean everyone else would be the same.

"What's wrong, _niño_?"

Harry blinked twice, slowly, snapping out of his musings. Abuela had gotten up from her seat to stand crooked besides him, a hand on his shoulder and a worried expression further wrinkling her aged face.

"O-oh… nothing! N-nothing's wrong!" he stammered, shaking off Abuela's hand and jumping from the car before hopping next to Glenn. Abuela gave him a strange look, but Harry stubbornly stared at the ground. Meanwhile, Glenn shared looks with the elderly woman outside of the ten-year-old's sight.

* * *

Only a moment ago, Harry had been a confident ten-year-old exploring his surroundings, void of any shyness, but now he huddled like a frightened animal by Glenn's side. The Korean felt extremely puzzled by the complete one-eighty the kid had pulled and shared an unsure glance with the elderly woman standing by the supremely stubborn teenager still bent over his 2008 Ford Mustang Bullit.

He seriously needed to ask Harry what exactly had gone on in his home life before the apocalypse, because this bipolar behavior was not normal in the slightest. Heck, when Glenn had been young, he jumped at the chance to talk about himself and he would bug the snot out of everyone around him. While Harry showed occasional bouts of normal kid behavior, a lot of it seemed to be hidden under a blanket of anxiety and fear. Those were two feelings kids should not be accustomed to in the way Harry seemed to be.

Carefully, Glenn reached down to pat the boy's head. While Harry flinched at the contact, he didn't immediately pull away, but he didn't really respond either, so Glenn returned his hand to its original position.

"Hey, Harry… it's OK," he whispered, giving a reassuring smile when Harry turned his eyes to his face. "Abuela was just worried about you. No need to be shy. Guillermo promised us that we would be safe here, right?"

Harry slowly nodded, his eyes not quite meeting Glenn's. "Y-yeah…" he eventually answered, grabbing a fistful of Glenn's pants leg.

Softly, Abuela spoke up. "Harry, would you like to go somewhere a little quieter? I've got a friend I'd like you to meet, and I'm sure you'll enjoy him too. He's such a nice man and such a storyteller too! If your big brother approves of course."

Glenn gave the elderly woman a thankful smile when Harry reluctantly nodded, slightly releasing his hold on Glenn's pants leg. He didn't think too much on the 'brother' comment, as the older lady had probably honestly mistaken them as such. Sam still hadn't removed himself from the Mustang, but Glenn wasn't particularly surprised.

"Oi! _El Burro_! C'mere for a sec. We plannin' for tomorrow an' we need your help."

Abuela laughed. " _El Burro_ , eh?"

Glenn chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. What did that even mean? Dammit, he wished that the internet was still up and running… "I'll be there in a minute, Guillermo!"

* * *

Harry quietly followed Abuela out of the machinery-filled warehouse and into a small, rather untouched, fenced-in yard hidden from the undead. His eyes traveled every which way, taking in the green grass and bright blue sky undisturbed by the apocalypse, feeling himself unconsciously relax tensed muscles.

While Harry still felt wary about trusting anyone but Glenn, Abuela was an old lady, so she must be nice. Like Ms. Figg! He kinda misses Ms. Figg and her household of cats, even if she never did much besides chatter about her 'babies'. She was kind and never denied him a snack or a nap. He just didn't want Abuela thinking him a freak like his relatives, because that would hurt… a lot.

"Come on, _niño_ , we're almost there."

"... uh… Abuela? W-what does _niño_ mean?"

Abuela smiled, her kind face radiating warmth. "Why, it means little boy, niño."

Harry nodded, feeling put off at the name, but paused when another question came to mind. "So… uh… what does _el burro_ mean? Guillermo keeps calling Glenn that, but I don't know what it means…"

Abuela tutted, leading the boy inside of what he presumed to be a small nursing home. Each room they passed held an older or disabled person. "Please do not repeat that word, niño. It is a very nasty word that little children shouldn't say. Little niños got slapped when they said such nasty stuff in my day, but I'll let you off since you didn't know what it meant."

"O-ok?"

Finally, the two stopped in front of a closed door with an improvised name tag duct taped to the peeling wood. Mr. Gilbert.

"Here we are!" Abuela softly exclaimed. "Now, niño, Mr. Gilbert is very sick and very weak, so when we enter, be very quiet."

Harry nodded and clamped his mouth shut as the door slowly opened to reveal an elderly, dark-skinned man with patchy silver hair speckled across his scalp and lower face. A pair of spectacles perched on his bulbous nose, the clear, watery brown eyes behind them kind and inviting.

"Ah, well, what do we have here?" Mr. Gilbert said, his voice scratchy and soft. "You brought me a guest, Abuela?"

"Yes, yes. A sweet little niño, he just came in with his brother to visit Guillermo, so I decided to bring him here to hear one of your stories. I'll be a few rooms over with Mrs. Williams if you need me." And then Abuela slipped out the door and was gone.

Mr. Gilbert gestured for him to sit, skin crinkled around his eyes as he focused his attention on Harry.

"Hmmm…. What's your name, kid?"

"M' name's H-Harry, Mr. Gilbert. Harry Potter."

"You from Britain, Harry?"

"Y-yes, sir." Why did everyone wonder where he was from? Was his accent that distinct?

Mr. Gilbert took a moment to cough, pounding his chest and reaching over to his bedside to reach a small device he put to his mouth. After a moment where he took several deep breaths, he once again focused on Harry. "You ever been to London, Harry?"

"Uh… once, sir."

"I've only been once myself," Mr. Gilbert huffed, one corner of his mouth tilted in a half-smile. "It's very pretty there, very old fashioned. I was over there as part of the navy. We only stopped for a couple days to restock our boat, but while there, the Queen of England herself visited our platoon! I couldn't believe my eyes, and even now I sometimes doubt my own memory."

The old man laughed, a faint, raspy laugh that conveyed such joy and humor.

"W-what did she say?" Harry asked, crouched on the edge of the small plastic chair pulled up to the elderly man's bed.

* * *

"You've got an interesting group here, Guillermo."

After making sure the area Abuela was taking Harry to was safe (courtesy of Guillermo), Glenn had scooted the little bugger off while he decided to pop a seat and join the men in their discussions. Despite the wary eyes focused on him, he still felt the need to ask about the abnormality of their group.

"We do what we can to survive," the Hispanic man replied simply.

"And that includes sheltering elderlies? I thought that the occupants of hospitals and nursing homes would have been evacuated before the full outbreak."

Guillermo scoffed, crossing his arms. "Well, they weren't. Most of the nurses and workers just up and left them behind, man! Didn't give a shit whether they could fight those damn zombies or not, too busy saving their own asses they were. Felipe had come by and check to see if Abuela was alright and if the place had been evacuated. When we discovered what had happened, we couldn't just up and leave them like that!"

"So the hospital supplies… ?"

"Some of it's for us, but most of it's for them. We've managed to do okay with what was left behind, but we runnin' out. We need oxygen tanks, antiseptic, antibiotics, inhalers, and all kinds of other shit. We ain't expectin' you to do miracles, but we gettin' desperate, amigo, and a pharmacy ain't gon' cut it."

Glenn hummed, furrowing his thin brows and staring down at the warped wood of their improvised table. "You got a list?" Upon request, he was handed a folded piece of paper scribbled on with some sort of coal-like substance. "Okay… hmm… do you have a map or anything? No? Well, then this might be a little complicated."

"Complicated how?"

"Well, besides one time, I really haven't been to this hospital, and since we don't have a map, none of us know its layout. By going in unprepared, I might as well be walking into a death trap."

The men around him gave frustrated grunts, one even growling out a hushed, "So what we gonna do now?"

Guillermo narrowed his eyes and slowly propped his arms on warped wood. "So you sayin' you can't do it?"

Glenn's breath stuttered and he let out a hasty, "That's not what I'm saying at all!" When all eyes were back on him, he stiffened for a moment before forcing himself to relax, if only a little bit. "I-it just means that it might take longer… I'll need to do an investigatory run with only myself. I will need ample weapons in case something goes wrong, but this step should be rather simple, as long as I don't run into any... situations. I'll run in, scope out the place, identify where the supplies would be, and run out. The second trip will be for supplies, and to get all that's on this list, I'm gonna go ahead and say that I will need three guys to accompany me."

So far Guillermo was nodding along with his suggestions, only making a very slight face at the last sentence. When the man didn't outright object, Glenn called it a win.

"A-as you can see, I am not very strong, and in order to get the amount of supplies you need, my companions will be crucial in helping me gather them and providing back-up. I would also like to see if anyone is still trapped within and help them if I can, so we should plan for doing so - "

"And why we gonna do that?" one of the Vatos men at the 'table' spoke up, his voice rough and intimidating.

Glenn froze, his brain going into overdrive. "W-w-well... uh… I assumed from Abuela and the other nursing home occupants that you would help if we found anyone inside the hospital, but uh… it's up to you, I guess?"

"Leave him be, Angelo," Guillermo said, glancing at 'Angelo'. "We ain't heartless," he repeated to Glenn.

Glenn nodded, very hesitantly finishing his plan. "A-Anyway, um, you guys can keep things like inhalers, oxygen tanks, and the like - stuff you guys really need around here - and I'll take… uh… maybe twenty-five percent of everything else."

The Hispanic's eyebrows rose. "Only twenty-five percent, amigo?"

Glenn nodded his head. "From the looks of your group, you're housing about thirty people, right? Well, uh, our camp only has about fifteen so we won't need nearly as much as you guys. Plus, I managed to snag quite a bit in some bags I had to leave when you guys rescued us, so it's fine. It's fine." He put his foot down on the last sentence when it looked like Guillermo was going to object.

"Okay, amigo. Go find your _hermano_ , and I'll set you up with somewhere to sleep. We start in the morning."

* * *

 **A/N: Whew! Dialogue can be so fun, but so aggravating too!**

 **Anywho, here we are introduced (not really) to The Vatos gang (fun fact, when translated it basically just means they are calling themselves The Dudes). Along with expanding a bit on Abuela and Mr. Gilbert, who have very little in the way of showtime, I decided that I wanted to add in a new face; AKA, Sam! While I will not smother you with 'OCs' I would like to add a bit of flavor by adding in additional characters in groups who were left fairly unexplored beyond a few people and a few sentences, so do expect them!**

 **I am not a fan of stories that take a character and do crap all to change the storyline. If you're gonna add something that wasn't there before, do something to make it more than "oh, hello, I'm here, and while I say a few lines, I overall mean very little to the story besides the fact that I shack up with a main character". Like, uh… really? Thanks but no thanks. Therefore, I will be changing things, quite a bit actually. You'll see.**

 **I'm sorry this chapter was a bit of a lull, but it'll definitely pick up! No good story is pure action, after all :D Next chapter should be a long one (hopefully) and we should be back with the group by either the end of next chapter or beginning of the one after that. _Maybe._ *wink***

 **Happy Writing~!**

 **_-*Doodling Shadows**

 **EDITED 2/17/2019**


	4. Chapter 4

**Stick With Me, Kid, and We'll Go Places**

 **HP x TWD**

 **Characters: TWD cast + Harry**

 **Summary: _Harry_ _Potter knew very little about America, so of course his 'family' had to take a vacation there right when the zombie apocalypse hit. He's only ten and he's already fighting for his life. Joy._**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or Harry Potter.**

 **Chapter 4 Word Count: ~4600**

Glenn did not like hastily-made plans. He did not like not knowing an area like the back of his hand. In Atlanta, he had probably traveled every main street and back street road at least several times each, a strong cognitive map forming in his head due to his job as a pizza delivery guy.

The Harrison Memorial Hospital, however? Besides once when his aunt was having a baby, he really hadn't had any chance to explore the building, not to mention the small, rural area surrounding it. Heck, King County had sheriffs still, for Christ's sake! The rolling hills and spread out clusters of neighborhoods might as well have been a different world in relation to Atlanta, Georgia, even if they both existed less than twenty miles from each other.

Unfortunately, the Wellstar Atlanta Medical Center, Grady Memorial Hospital, and the Piedmont Atlanta Hospital had all been either bombed or raided beyond recognition, forcing The Vatos to look further out for the supplies they needed.

Glenn nervously tapped his foot on the rough, carpeted floor of the Ford Diesel truck as he stared at the rolling scenery outside of the passenger side window. Guillermo gave him sidelong looks as he navigated the long winding roads of King County, but said nothing to disrupt the tense silence. Even Felipe and Jorge refused to speak a word, their taut muscles and strained faces saying everything words couldn't.

No one really believed this trip would be a success, but before they left, Guillermo had informed Glenn about the exact stakes; without the oxygen tanks, at least, about three of their numbers wouldn't make it past the following month. Before everyone went to bed, Glenn had the chance to meet the people he would be helping to survive.

The first, a survivor of lung cancer named Arwin, who had gone through two lung transplants in his life and had also survived a complete lung collapse three years ago, was now forced to be on near constant oxygen when moving around. For several years of his life, he had run a small gardening shop extremely popular in the suburbs and had even begun to create a small but budding greenhouse next to the nursery home. He had slowly been teaching several of The Vatos how to properly manage and take care of the plants, guiding them on what signs to look for at every possible stage. Thanks to the fifty-two-year-old man, they already had a fair amount of healthy sprouts that would hopefully grow into even healthier tomato plants, and just a couple days ago they had even managed to scavenge some green bean and cucumber seeds.

Guinevere, a sweet twenty-three-year-old diagnosed with Hypoxemia and prescribed an hour or two of oxygen every other day. She loved animals (especially parrots) and she had a beautiful voice she would occasionally fill their Warehouse with whenever she was especially bored, lonely, or sad. Before the apocalypse, she had been well on her way through a veterinarian degree and given enough chance, they hoped to gather some farm animals for her to try her hand at taking care of. As it was, she constantly checked up on the few animals they did have and made sure they were just as healthy as they could be.

The last one was the tough ex-navy man, Mr. Gilbert, who suffered from mild Asperger's and extreme asthma. He was partially paralyzed from the hips down, but some would visit him just for the myriad of tales he could pop off at a moment's notice if given the chance. A lot of them were pure tall tales, but very few minded. Most considered him The Vatos' Abuelo. While Abuela either didn't remember her actual name or refused to divulge it, Mr. Gilbert had earned the title of endearment. Whenever his asthma got really bad, however, he had to rely on oxygen to help him breath; According to written records, he had been declining for several months, so he had to keep a tank with him at all times, just in case.

The Vatos cared for their own no matter how they came to be a part of their mismatched group. While they were not completely safe, they had found a niche inside the war-zone of Atlanta and did a little bit more than just survive. In certain ways, Glenn both envied the group and was glad he wasn't in their situation-yes, they were cooped up in the forest with little more than camping equipment and an RV, but they did not have any members who would require the care that Abuela or Mr. Gilbert needed. The Vatos were thirty plus strong and barricaded inside a dead-infested city, and the Valley Group at most included eighteen or twenty, but were several miles outside the city limits.

Really, there was nothing similar about the two situations, but if he hadn't been stupid and gotten him and Harry into that mess yesterday, he might not have ever met Guillermo or Sam or Abuela and seen the kindness people could still keep in their hearts despite the shit around them.

He owed these people, and even when this was all said and done, he still would owe these people. They gave him hope that even now… humanity wasn't lost.

These thoughts ran through his head over and over as the city skyline morphed into suburban areas and further into grasslands. The usual beauty was completely overcast by the patches of dried blood and rotting corpses littering the asphalt.

Glenn clutched the seat under him as the truck jerked to the side to avoid a small pile-up of undead. The walkers glanced up with vacant eyes, groaning in the cloud of dust and gas left in their wake. About four of them actually took a few steps in the direction of their retreating car, but they ultimately gave up to return to their meal.

* * *

" _Déjame solo_! Go bug someone else!"

"But you and Miguel are the only ones anywhere near my age, and Miguel is booooring!"

Which was partially true. Miguel seemed sort of insecure, and because of that, he walked around and tried to imitate the bigger, buffer guys by puffing out his chest and spewing out foul talk whenever given the chance. Sam didn't try and imitate anyone so Harry found him much more interesting to be around.

Sam slammed the hood of his Mustang, cursing under his breath. "Just 'cause that Chinese kid ain't here doesn't mean ya get to bug me, so get lost!"

Harry pouted. "Glenn's out on a mission for you guys, so you could at least be grateful! Besides, he's Korean!"

"I don't gotta be grateful to nobody, ya hear? Especially not to some snot-nosed brat and a skinny Korean who I ain't ever gonna see again!"

Harry pondered his next words for a moment before adjusting his seat so he rested more of his bum on the Mustang's hood. A hint of a smile stretched his lips. "You say that, but I bet you're lonely. You don't have anyone but Miguel who's anywhere near your age, and you don't like him either. I don't blame you."

When Sam just stared at him with incredulity, Harry giggled. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Fuck you, man!"

Harry full out laughed, swinging his legs from where he sat on the hood of the car. "I'll keep it a secret, I promise!"

Sam just grumbled angrily in response, moving away so that he was instead reclining on a plastic lawn chair a few feet away from his Mustang. Harry followed. "You are annoyin', ya know that?"

"Nope!" He grinned cheekily. Of course, he did know that he was getting on the teen's nerves, but it was fun! It also helped keep his mind off of Glenn, who had left with Guillermo almost two hours ago. All Harry knew about the operation was that it was to get supplies from the hospital, and being out of the loop made him slightly edgy.

"Well, ya are." The teen grumbled out something under his breath.

"Huh?"

"... Nothin'," Sam growled, face scrunched in irritation.

Harry sighed heavily and returned to the Mustang, inspecting its exterior. He didn't know cars, but from what Glenn had told him last night, it was really new. It didn't look old, certainly, but it did look well used. It was plain to see that Sam took great care of it because even though a few dents gave it the impression of scratched up, the dark emerald finish gleamed in the garage's low light. Harry was also sure that the purring sound the car made when Sam checked its engine this morning meant that it worked well, too.

"You sure like this car, don't you, Sam?"

The teen huffed from his reclined position. "Hell yeah! That car's my baby. I got it from my uncle last year - I don't know how he got it, maybe a used car store or somethin', but I been takin' care of it ever since. Ya scratch it and I'll be hella pissed, ya got it?"

Harry slowly nodded, lightly brushing a hand against the glossy paint, feeling how his skin slid off the slick, almost water-like surface. "How did you get it so smooth and shiny?"

"It's called waxing - did it just before this damn apocalypse started."

"Oh."

He moved onto the back, where a large piece of metal created a lip. When he asked about it, Sam grunted out, calling them wings - one of the many unique parts of a Mustang that separated it from other cars, apparently. Harry hummed, circling the car a few times and asking about several parts before the teen finally got fed up and left.

Harry followed, of course.

After a few steps, Sam whirled around and snapped, his lean frame nearly towering over the ten-year-old boy.

"Damn, kid! Do I have to say it again?! Leave. Me. Alone! I don't like little snot-nosed kids who ask too many questions, and I certainly don't like you! Now go bug someone else!"

When Sam continued on his way, Harry didn't move. His emerald eyes were wide open, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't help the small shakes overcoming his muscles. He felt like a bucket of ice had just been dumped over his head and he desperately tried to hold in the tears.

Did he ask too many questions? Did he not like talking to him? With his severe lack of social knowledge, Harry felt completely out of depth and so upset and confused.

Harry had only been trying to be friendly! Sam seemed really lonely… And Harry was lonely as well… What was wrong with trying to be friends?! For a brief moment, anger overtook his emotions. He was only trying to help! Sam didn't need to be so… so mean!

All these thoughts raced through his head, and before he could properly get a reign on them, he felt something powerful rush through his veins. An orange-ish red object flashed by his face with a whoosh of displaced air and hurled itself at the teen's back.

Sam turned his head back around at the sound and barely had enough time to duck the wrench-turned-projectile. The tool flew over the crouched teen's head and clanged against a piece of equipment. Both boys were left staring at where the wrench had hit - once, the equipment had been whole and functional, but now a large dent carved itself into the thick metal plating, almost causing the machine to fold in two. A massive dent that was caused by a seven inch long, half-inch thick wrench.

To do that much damage… there was no way he could have thrown it and achieved the same result. If that had actually hit Sam... Harry felt almost sick as Sam looked at him.

Bright, baby blue eyes met shiny emerald, both reflected with fear and confusion.

Heart racing, Harry bolted.

"Hey!" Sam called out, picking himself up and rushing to follow him.

* * *

Glenn felt his stomach squeeze with unease as the four of them pulled into the relatively deserted hospital parking lot. A peek past a crumbled wall revealed dozens, maybe more than a hundred, bodies lying in the courtyard and covered with white cloths - each and every one of them stained with blood around the bodies' heads. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened. For once, Glenn was nervous.

The bullet-sprayed asphalt and concrete walls did not speak well for the condition of the hospital on the inside. And considering what that could possibly mean for him? Yeah...

Guillermo cautiously steered the large pickup into a good position in case the need for a speedy get-away arose. Placing a hand on Jorge's seat, the Hispanic man caught Glenn's eye, his own face set in a grim line.

"You still up to it, boy-o?"

Glenn took a moment to observe the surrounding area through the truck's windows, letting himself take long, deep breaths. When he no longer felt like bolting or throwing up, he stared Guillermo straight in the eyes and nodded.

The Vatos' leader held up a bulky walkie-talkie. Harry's walkie-talkie. Glenn smirked at the thought of the petulant expression on the kid's face when he had asked for it last night.

"Make sure to let us know if you need help. Jorge and Bruno are more than willing to go breakin' down doors and shit if it means killin' some _cadávers_ , alrigh'?"

Clenching his jaw, Glenn held up his own walkie-talkie and gave the man a grim nod. "I'll let you guys know when the party is ready." And damn did he know that joke fell flatter than a pancake, but he was just so fucking nervous right now.

Heart thumping in his throat, he pushed the door open and dashed into the hot, Atlanta landscape. Even with several pieces of artillery strapped on his person, he felt no safer going into the unknown than he did delivering into the really seedy parts of town.

Glenn's feet quickly carried him over to the gaping hole carved into the concrete wall around the corner, right next to the hospital proper. The one he had glanced a peek into when they had entered. The gap provided a much clearer and more inconspicuous exit from the possible death trap; by following the concrete walls of the hospital, he led himself straight to a pair of metal stairs that carried him up to a gaping doorway.

Taking a deep breath from his mouth, he squinted his eyes so that he could see farther into the flickering darkness. With tense muscles, he carefully pulled out one of his two semi-automatic pistols and held it slightly above his hip. Not giving himself a second longer to ponder the danger he could be getting himself into, he stepped through the doorway.

* * *

"Hey!"

Harry slammed against a larger man, scrambling to move away and run even further into the chaotic mess that was The Vatos' garage. His mind raced and his heart slammed against his sternum with each beat. Through his unbridled fear, he couldn't hear anything past the roaring blood in his ears.

"You have never been and never will be anything but a Freak, you hear me? I took you through the goodness of my heart, and this is how you repay me." The harsh, weedy voice of Aunt Petunia whispered in his mind, words just as biting as the day she delivered them, on Dudley's ninth birthday.

That wrench hadn't been thrown by anyone. He... he must have done something freakish. He didn't quite understand what, but every time something freakish happened, he had been punished. Freaks deserved punishment.

Hot tears flowed down Harry's cheeks as he darted underneath an old Cadillac supported by four thick bricks underneath its tireless spokes. There he twisted and squeezed until he had himself securely tucked underneath the old and rusty car. Tight spaces felt constricting, but the familiar feeling slowly shook him from the panic seizing his heart.

After a few moments, he finally settled down enough to hear the anxious and pleading voice of... Sam?

"-Ry! Man, you gotta come out now... please? I ain't mad at'cha, I swear! It was an accident, ya gots to know that, right? Harry?"

Guilt clawed at his chest but he refused to reveal himself. It hadn't been an accident... not entirely. The moment before the wrench had gone flying... he had wished for Sam to understand the pain he was feeling at the teen's harsh words. He had been angry, and... and through his freakishness, he had almost hurt him. Maybe Sam had forgiven him, but Harry couldn't quite forgive himself.

Blinking away tears, Harry curled into a tight ball underneath the Cadillac, clenching his eyes shut and trying to tune out the boy's pleading calls.

"Harry, c'mon! Please stop hiding!"

Harry just curled tighter, guilt gnawing its way through his stomach with a vengeance.

* * *

Once inside the hospital, Glenn pushed his back to a wall and studied the area with careful eyes. The exit he had just entered seemed to have landed him on the second landing of a narrow staircase likely only used in case of emergencies or elevator malfunction. The lower set of stairs likely led to some sort of basement area. Several meters and multiple sets of staircases above him, a light flickered dimly, causing shadows to fade in and out and the whole place felt like a cheap horror film.

He snorted. A cheap horror film. That about summed up their lives now. Glenn almost wanted to glance around to see if he could spot a camera or microphone, but he restrained. He needed to focus.

After checking his surroundings for any animated corpses, he began to climb the stairs. He took each step as silently as he could, but occasionally his foot would snag on the lip of a stair with an echoing thump. Each time this happened, he froze and held his breath.

It took him maybe five minutes to climb about two flights. At each exit, he had halted to glance through and look for walkers. The hospital was empty. Eerily so.

Glenn shivered as he carefully poked his head around the door frame, letting his eyes roam along the blood-stained and messy hallways. This one seemed to have far fewer bullet holes and torn light fixtures, and so he decided to exit the stairway.

At first, his steps were hesitant and his breath shallow, each meter taking an eternity, but after passing innumerable doors and having a distinct lack of zombies trying to eat his flesh, he allowed himself to relax marginally. With purposeful footsteps, he examined the entire floor.

Much like many other hospitals during the break-out, the Harrison Memorial Hospital had been woefully unprepared when their patients had begun waking from their forever sleep. From what Glenn could see, almost no area of the hospital floor, wall, or ceiling had survived the onslaught. Multiple bullet holes lined the plaster walls, numerous tiles were cracked or covered with rubble, the ceiling looked like it had survived a bombshell above with countless wires hanging from every hole and light fixtures hanging on by only a few threads. Heck, he could even see small tufts of insulation here or there.

Glenn couldn't imagine the hell this place went through on Z-day.

He quickly pulled out of another room where a woman lay dead (shot through the head, so no zombification) and gnawed on, feeling his stomach roil at the scene.

Thankfully, the next set of doors revealed a messy storage room, and he quickly found several smaller, less breakable items and stuffed them in a large trash bag. He saw a few oxygen tanks still left on a cart and decided to leave those mostly alone for when Guillermo's men accompanied him. As it was, though, he slowly maneuvered the car further into the hallway so it could be accessed easier before he hauled the trash bag to the staircase where he carried it down one flight to access the first floor.

Rinse, wash, and repeat. The ground floor, aka the floor he had entered the staircase on, held a few surprises, however.

The first was that level's supply closet. Or should he say Walker closet? Having observed the previous two floors' layout, he had easily deduced the ground floor's supply closet location, and so it had been his first stop. Imagine his surprise when he found the padlocked doors barely restraining a horde of undead. DON'T OPEN, DEAD INSIDE sprawled across the two green-ish grey doors in thick, black spray paint. Glenn blinked a few times and scratched his head, observing the carnage right around the door. Multiple sprays of bullets and an absolutely ruined hallway surrounded the undead's prison.

Well, he now knew the reason why the hospital was so eerily silent and free of walkers.

The second came when he inspected the eighth or ninth hospital room he came across on that floor. Unlike the rest, this one had been deliberately blocked by a gurney and had a firmly closed door. This singular fact made him think that there was something in their worth getting to - otherwise, someone wouldn't have even thought to take precautions to close a door or make a hasty blockade. Not during the apocalypse.

After wheeling the gurney away, he had to push his shoulder against the door rather hard. Without air-conditioning, the door had stuck with the heat, and it was a right pain to open, but when he finally did he was met with an absolutely pristine hospital room.

In the middle of the white room laid an average sized man with broad shoulders, an empty IV standing by his bed and a needle in his arm. On his other side, a colorful arrangement of lightly wilted flowers stood proudly in the otherwise bland room, a get-well card resting on the vase's surface. By the man's unconscious (or dead, his mind whispered) state, Glenn assumed this man had been someone suffering from a coma.

Taking another glance into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear, he slipped fully into the room to check the man over. Rough patches of grizzle had developed over the man's lower jaw, but this barely distracted from the obviously handsome features of the mid-thirty-year-old man. While the man's muscles had probably become less defined over time, he obviously had not shirked his workout, especially taking into account the well-worn uniform folded on top of a dresser.

Rick Grimes, King County Sheriff, the gleaming badge displayed proudly.

A man of law and a man deserving of respect. The cause of his coma could have been something police related. Maybe this man has saved lives. Letting a small smile turn up his lips, he examined the room one more time before returning to the man's bedside, hand outstretched to feel the pale skin. Maybe...

He felt the flicker of hope die in his chest.

No warmth greeted his fingers. Only death. Considering the lack of rot and smell, this man might have only died at most a day ago, as soon as hours ago. The thought that if he had been sooner... his uneasy stomach flopped again.

Swallowing heavily, he carefully removed the IV from the man's - Rick Grimes' - skin and pulled the thin cloth blanket up to cover his face. He wondered if his family were the ones to barricade his door, or if it had been a friend. It probably wasn't a stranger, all things considered. The family... Did they know? Or had they escaped to somewhere else and had already given up, assuming this man had already died or been turned?

He found that he didn't really like the answer either way. Either way... a good man was dead, and he had been too late to save him.

Once he had given the man a few moments of silence to acknowledge his death and respect the man he might have been had he survived, he padded out of the room with a slightly heavier heart.

He spent another thirty minutes inside the hospital before pulling out the walkie talkie and moving into the staircase. With concise wording, he told the men how to get inside. Within minutes they were walking up beside him, tense and edgy.

Despite the Atlanta heat, he felt cold as he helped the men retrieve the supplies.

Ever since Z-day, death and carnage had been the norm. But Rick Grimes... he hadn't been killed by a zombie or disease. He had expired because of a lack of fluids and care to keep him alive. No matter what, a human being could only survive without water for three days, and considering the hospital's lack of cool air... he probably only lasted two once those fluids ran out.

Unseen by the men walking in front of him, Glenn's face screwed up into an ugly scowl.

Today only reaffirmed one fact:

This new world was undeniably cruel.

 _What Glenn didn't know was that only moments after leaving the hospital, a once blue-eyed, brown-haired man opened watery, yellow-stained eyes. Rick Grimes wasn't quite as dead as he thought._

* * *

"You ready to talk?"

Harry peered up at the exhausted blue eyes staring back at him. Gnawing at his lower lip, he nodded. Sam's tense expression relaxed and the teen offered a hand to the ten-year-old.

* * *

Glenn shuffled into The Vatos' garage with heavy feet. Yes, they had been successful - twelve full and eight half tanks of oxygen, over a dozen packages of gauze and hospital-issued anti-septic and disinfectant, and three bags of miscellaneous supplies they might be able to use (and that haul didn't even require them to clean out the five-story building) - but by the time they had gotten back it had been near dusk. As a result, they had to take even more time and precaution to avoid the more active walkers. Just to get to the garage from the highway had taken over two hours.

To be blunt, he was dead on his feet. He really didn't mean for that to come out as a joke. Not after what he had seen.

However, halfway to his and Harry's temporary bunks, something caught his attention.

Next to Sam's Mustang, two lounge chairs had been pushed together and layered with spare blankets and pillows. Inside the make-shift nest, one teenager and kid were curled up and fast asleep. Both looked puffy-eyed but content, Harry nuzzled next to Sam's thin chest. Sam had one arm supporting his head, the other tossed over Harry's small form. He could barely hear their soft breathing in the quiet garage.

Glenn smiled.

* * *

 **LONG A/N: Soooo... been over a month... since the last chapter...**

 **Heheh... To be honest, I had so much to do this summer I forgot about doing it for a long while, that and I had to put my writing to actual use - my summer reading project. And can I say that Syvain Neuvel is an AMAZING writer? Like, damn. Both _Sleeping Giants_ and _Waking Gods_ just would not _let me go_ until I finished. But yeah, along with being sidetracked and having to put it to the side, this chapter had its moments when it came to being written, as you can tell by the much longer length. :P**

 **And... uh... _yes_. Rick is D.E.A.D. I'm sorry if this upsets you, but his miraculous survival was horribly unrealistic. This is just something I have been planning since the beginning, so if it deters you, I am sorry but I am not going to change it.**

 **Anywho, I must say that... You, my readers? ... YOU GUYS ROCK! I'm _still_ blown away by how much attention my little plot bunny received. 52 reviews, 216 favorites, 351 follows, and 8000+ views? Thank you, thank you, thank you! This story is by far my most popular fanfiction, and just the thought that so many of you want to see this continue and grow... it makes me so happy I want to cry. So, again, thank you. I appreciate every one of you, and I get so, so, _so_ excited over every kind comment and every piece of constructive criticism, so don't be afraid to leave a review if you have something to say. I won't bite. :D**

 **P.S. I have a poll up on my profile, asking you guys which kind of story you'd like to see coming January. I have four options on the board along with their summaries and how long they will be estimated to be when completed. Three are crossovers. I enjoy your guys input, so please hop over and put in a vote! :3**

 **Happy Writing~!**

 **_-*Doodling Shadows**

 **EDITED 2/17/2019**


	5. Chapter 5

**Stick With Me, Kid, and We'll Go Places**

 **HP x TWD**

 **Characters: TWD cast + Harry**

 **Summary: _Harry_ _Potter knew very little about America, so of course his 'family' had to take a vacation there right when the zombie apocalypse hit. He's only ten and he's already fighting for his life. Joy._**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or Harry Potter.**

 **Chapter 5 Word Count: 5059**

* * *

Morning soon dawned over The Vatos' camp, washing the cold concrete warehouse with an auburn hue, thanks to the high windows positioned along each wall. But despite a lack of bright light, most everyone was awake, shuffling around and beginning their day the best way they could. In one corner, they had set up a small 'kitchen'—if it could be called such—with several scavenged gas stoves and a refrigerator hooked up to a small generator. Currently, several members were crowded around the area, taking bowls from a man behind a counter who ladled each one full of a sort of soup. Throughout the warehouse, groups had formed in bunches of four or five, each group drowsily chatting over their meager breakfast.

So peaceful was the morning that Glenn almost felt regretful leaving The Vatos. He wasn't sure if these people had known most of each other before the outbreak, or if Guillermo was such a brilliant leader that everyone just felt safe under his command, but there was a sense of ease amongst the group that made the situation seem semi-normal, as if the world hadn't gone to shit. It was a sense of casualness that Glenn could not say that he felt back at the Quarry.

So with thoughts tumbling through his mind, he packed up their own share of spoils from the hospital trip and ruffled through their duffel of food, running over the supplies several times in his head. Hopefully, once they made it back, he wouldn't have to take a supply run for a solid two weeks. Knowing Shane, however, enough was never enough.

After he finished packing, he ran through the route they would take to get back to camp. More than likely, they would have to get through the blockage from two days ago. If not, then he would have to call the lost supplies just that - lost. He was not going to needlessly endanger himself or Harry over clothes and medicinal supplies (no matter how much Harry looked to need the former), especially considering he had a large bag of the latter from the hospital. If need be, he might take a trip into Atlanta just to get some more clothes, considering that the winter was on their heels, and hardly anyone had proper wear for that season.

Besides, he had to consider the fact that one of The Vatos was going to take him at least out of town in a car, and there was no possible way to get to that area without some backtracking, and some part of him wanted to be quick and get back to the camp. No doubt a few people were worried about him, if only because his runs into the city provided food and other provisions. He didn't want to make them think he had abandoned him; that would not help anything, especially when he was going to be arriving with another member, or in Shane's mind, "another mouth to feed".

Glenn took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, letting his shoulders relax with the movement. He needed to stop thinking so far ahead. The best he could do right now was to take one thing at a time. That was the best anyone could do right now.

After settling his supplies and piling the two bags, he quietly walked over to where Harry was still dozing. The poor kid had had a very eventful few days, no doubt, and if the faded dark circles under his eyes were any indication, he was exhausted. From what little Glenn knew about the body and how it grew, he suspected that the boy more than needed it, as he was approaching his preteen years. Yuck.

Not for the first time did he wonder about Harry's life before. His clothes, gaunt frame, and his personality and the little actions practically pointed to an answer, but Glenn didn't want to press the issue while his relationship with him was so fragile and new. A little more trust and time would do leaps more than pressure and questions. That was something Glenn knew. So he ignored the dozens of questions poking at the back of his mind and instead inspected the area some more.

Like the rest of The Vatos, Sam had already started his day, and Glenn could spot the kid chatting with a group of men in their mid-twenties, probably talking about cars. Along with Sam's Mustang, about seven other cars were spread throughout the warehouse, but even with that many cars around, the place didn't feel very crowded. Instead, it kind of felt… cozy, in an odd sort of way.

What with all that happened the last few days, he hadn't had much time to inspect the warehouse in full, and he could honestly say that this place felt more like a 'home' than just a shelter. While neither of the groups was thinking long term, The Vatos seemed to have set up a much more secluded and secure space to ride out the apocalypse, no matter how long. The only fault Glenn could see would be the area between the nursing home and the warehouse, which was rather unfortified with only a flimsy fence between them and a possible horde of undead. Maybe he should suggest some things to Guillermo before he leaves.

Glenn went ahead and grabbed Harry and himself a bowl of soup from the man at the kitchen - Jorge, he thinks his name was. The buff man had accompanied him on his hospital run yesterday, and despite his intimidating appearance, the man seemed wholly comfortable in the food-laden environment, ladling and handing him two bowls of soup with the barest hint of a smile. Glenn returned the smile in full when he noticed the extra meat and potatoes in the broth, knowing that the man was thanking him in his own, silent way before they departed.

When Harry blinked open his eyes that morning, he almost forgot that two weeks ago, the apocalypse had come to town; he didn't even once think of the brain-rotted, flesh-eating creatures hell-bent on devouring the human race. He was warm. He was well-rested. He felt... semi-content.

Jaw cracking with a yawn, Harry turned on his side, struggling with the worn (and warm) hotel-grade blankets that enveloped him. In his struggle, something shifted underneath him, and after one heart-wrenching second of free-fall, he found himself sprawled across cold concrete and mostly blanket free. When his heart stopped pounding from the scare, he looked to see what happened.

Apparently, he had been sleeping on two lawn chairs pushed up against each other; they must have shifted just enough to dump him from its warm embrace.

With one hand rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he craned his head around to take stock of his surroundings—a habit born from all his years living with easily angered relatives. Unaccustomed to his surroundings, it took him a moment to realize he was in The Vatos' warehouse instead of his cramped hotel room. His curious, green eyes roved over the bits of machinery and car parts littered around the place, and he flinched when they landed on a particularly wrecked piece of equipment. The machine—possibly a spare engine (he wasn't quite sure)—had folded in on itself on one side, like an out of breath elder, an orange wrench laying innocently beside it.

His mind ran through the events of the previous night: his anger, the instinctive urge to throw something, an orange object blurring past his face, a crumpled piece of equipment, hiding, Sam's words.

-:-.-:-.-:-.-:-.-:-

 _"Hey, don't be afraid, Harry."_

 _"Please don't hurt me. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so so sorry."_

 _"I'm not going to hurt you."_

 _Harry muttered something under his breath._

 _"You aren't a freak, Harry. You are normal. Being a wizard doesn't make you a freak."_

-:-.-:-.-:-.-:-.-:-

A wizard. That's what Sam had called him. Immediately an image of an elderly, stooped man with long white hair floated to the surface of his jumbled mind. Once, in school, they had watched a 2D film about King Arthur, and there had been an elderly wizard by the name of... Merman? No, that couldn't be it. Mer... Merlin?

He all the sudden felt extremely frustrated. Frustrated at himself and his relatives. Because of his lackluster upbringing, he didn't have any tangible knowledge about wizards—about himself. For he was surely a wizard, right? At least "Wizard" sounded far better than Freak.

Maybe he should look for more answers from Sam.

* * *

After eating the delicious meat and potato soup Glenn had brought for him, he began to search the warehouse for the caramel-skinned teen.

Eventually, he found the teen, predictably, back with his Mustang. Instead of polishing it, or perfecting its already near-perfect engine, Sam was reclining in the front seat with his window open. When Harry approached the car, Sam gave him a nod and patted the seat next to him. Harry needed no other prompting before climbing into the car as well.

For a while, the two sat in companionable silence, both of them sorting through their thoughts before speaking.

Harry spoke first. "How… Why do you know about wizards? What are they?"

"Well," Sam started before pausing. "Hmm. It shouldn't really affect ya since this infection has probably spread there, probably makin' the statue worth shit..."

Harry furrowed his brows, trying to figure out what Sam was talking about. After a minute, Sam continued.

"Well, my aunt was a witch," he began again, his voice only a little above a whisper. "We weren't supposed ta know, because there are some pretty strong laws in place when it comes to who can know these sorta things. Since she married into the family—she was from up north, I don't quite remember the name of the place—only her husband was supposed ta know about her bein' a witch. But one day, when I was probably five or six, she kinda slipped. I had run straight into our TV stand, and before I knew what was goin' on, I'm looking up at a floatin' TV, hoverin' 'bout three inches from my face. She had used her magic because she had wanted to protect me from gettin' hurt."

Sam mulled over his words for another few moments.

"My parents _freaked_ out at first, because y'know, who wouldn't? She had just made a _TV float in thin air_! My parents were kinda scared of her, especially after she told 'em about the laws. For a few years, everything was kinda shaky, but we were still on good terms with her. But one day, when I was I think eleven or twelve, she disappeared, and we haven't seen her since."

Harry listened to his story intently, but he flinched when Sam talked about his parents fearing his aunt. He didn't want to be feared by anybody!

Would something like that happen if he told Glenn? A shiver of fear crawled up his spine at the thought.

"Anyway," Sam said. "I don't know much about wizards or witches, or whatever. I have no idea why you are a wizard, or how, or what it means. I just know you are one, and it's a part of who you are. You can't deny it any more than I can deny that I am Hispanic, capiche?"

After a second of hesitation, Harry slowly nodded his head. "I just… I don't want people to fear me for being a frea— a wizard."

Sam side-eyed Harry at his slip-up, but decided not to comment on it for now. "Well, you can be sure as hell that I'm not afraid of you. Magical wrench or not, you can't be more than thirty pounds soppin' wet! I ain't afraid of no scrawny kid!" As brash as his words were, Sam's face was sporting a confident, reassuring smile.

For a long while, the two sat in silence, one absorbing new information, and the other thinking.

"Sam?"

"Hmmmm?" Sam cracked one blue eye open, attention sliding to Harry.

It took a moment for Harry to work up the courage, and even then his words were rushed. "W-w-will I ever see you again?"

Sam sat up in his chair, staring at the far warehouse wall before responding. "Well, yeah, duh. I'll be seein' you every damn day."

At Harry's confused look, Sam smiled. "What, did you really think y'all would be leavin' without me? I asked Guillermo this mornin', and he said yes, so I'm afraid y'all are stuck with me for a while."

Harry's vision grew blurry with happy tears and he went to hug Sam.

Sam carefully pushed Harry's hands away from himself. "Ah, ah, ah! The handsy stuff's gots ta stop. You can cling to Glenn all ya want, but leave me out of the mushy-fest."

Harry laughed.

* * *

Glenn strode purposefully to where Guillermo and his group of men sat near the garage doors, weapons at the ready. When Guillermo noticed him, the man gave a slight nod, inviting him into the circle, an invitation that Glenn took gladly as he slid into an empty spot.

"What do you need, Glenn?"

It made Glenn smile to think that he had gotten the hard-shelled man to finally utter his actual name, instead of " _el burro_ "-while he still wasn't sure what that meant, he had a hunch it wasn't very nice. The fact that Guillermo had called him Glenn meant that the man actually saw him as a sort of equal instead of the dumb chickenshit who got Harry and himself into trouble a few days ago.

"Well," Glenn began slowly as he rolled the words around in his head. "I know that you guys have used this place for a while now without much trouble, but I was wondering about the stability of the fence between the warehouse and the nursing home." When Guillermo didn't say anything, Glenn continued a bit more brazenly. "I think that you guys need to secure it, maybe with some of the scrap metal lying about. The geek activity around here is only increasing, and you need to take bigger measures to make sure you and your own are safe."

One of the men in the circle growled lowly—the same one, Glenn remembered, who had strongly objected the day before—but he was quieted by a stern look from Guillermo.

For a solid moment, the leader of The Vatos seemed to mull over his words, no doubt crunching numbers in his head; the solidifying of the warehouse and nursing home wouldn't be cheap in either supplies or labor, but Glenn was confident it could be done with the amount of scrap metal and wiring he had noticed lying around.

After a few minutes, Guillermo looked into Glenn's eyes and nodded. "You 'ave a point, _amigo_. We have become too lax in our security, and the _cadavers_ are growing. I'll get my men on the task _rápidamente_."

Glenn nodded. "If you need any help, Harry and I are more than willing to pay you guys back for helping us."

"Nah," Guillermo grunted. "Ya'll done more than enough. In fact, it is us who should be thanking you. If ya need anything more before you leave, _amigo_ , just let Jorge know."

Glenn nodded again, mulling over Guillermo's words. "Actually… do you have any clothes that might fit Harry?"

Jorge, who he assumed was in charge of supplies and storage, furrowed his brow for a moment before answered. "Yeah, we should have somethin' to fit the squirt. We don' have any kids here, so he can have whatever he wants."

Glenn sighed in relief, thankful that they would not have to go after the duffle bag of clothes they had left behind. The medicine supplies would have to be counted as a loss, but hopefully, the bag he had gotten from the Vatos would be enough to (hopefully) make up for it.

* * *

With a well-oiled purr rumbling from the Mustang's engines, the three of them rolled into the camp a little past three in the afternoon. To avoid the undead, and leading anyone to the camp, they had taken a longer route.

First to exit the car was, of course, Glenn. Even though Sam's car had been quiet, their entrance had still attracted wary eyes and more than a few defensive stances. Once his face had been exposed to the light, however, wary eyes shown with relief at his return. The only one who didn't let his guard down walked through the throng of excited people. Shane.

"Good to have ya back," Shane said, stopping a few feet from Glenn. "Who're your new friends?" Despite the friendly enough words, Shane's tone was far from welcoming, and Glenn knew he needed to tread carefully.

"It's good to be back," he said, smiling to try and diffuse any situation before it started. " I know I was really late. I got into a bit of trouble in Atlanta, and I had to hide out for a while. I met another group in Atlanta—they called themselves The Vatos—lead by a man named Guillermo. They sheltered us in return for a bit of help with a scavenging job, even gave us a good portion of the loot." Nervous, Glenn tried to give as much neutrality to the facts as he could, but he wasn't quite sure it worked.

"And your friends?"

Glenn let out a soft sigh and waved to the car's inhabitants. From the driver's side, Sam carefully stepped out, adorning a nervous, if charming smile on his tan features. From the back came Harry, and upon the ten-year-old's appearance, he could visibly see Shane relax. Who could be intimidated by a kid practically swimming in his own clothes?

"This is Sam and Harry," Glenn explained. "I met Harry on my run—heck, he practically jumped into my arms!" At this Harry and him shared a humorous look. "We were both caught up in a horde before The Vatos saved us. Sam is part of The Vatos. He offered to take us back here, and if possible—"

Here, Sam interrupted Glenn. "I wanted to ask if it'd be alright if I stay with you guys. I brought some extra supplies with me, and I can take care of myself, but Atlanta's gettin' pretty dangerous, ya know? I don' know how much longer a group as big as The Vatos can stay there without trouble. Besides, Glenn and Harry are probably the only two friends I have right now, and I don' have any intention of losin' them because of y'all, ya hear?"

Glenn smiled nervously, gauging Shane's reaction. He was sure that Shane had been an extremely respectable man two weeks ago, but the apocalypse had changed all of them in some way. The officer had the occasional issue with his anger, and as a self-proclaimed leader, he wasn't very responsive to disobedience or anyone likely to give trouble. While he knew Sam would not cause any issue within the group (purposefully at least), he also knew that Shane could be a hard ass for some of the most asinine reasons.

Shane's sharp jawline tensed for a second at the teen's interruption, but Glenn relaxed his shoulders when that was the only outward reaction of irritation.

"Well," he hesitantly started, growing uncomfortable with the gap in conversation. "I was gone a lot longer than normal, and I'm extremely sorry. However," he interjected when everyone began to shift their feet uncomfortably. "I did get a really good haul thanks to the help of this kid."

Glenn cracked a large smile when Harry huffed after the Korean had grabbed his shoulders and mussed up his hair. The ten-year-old grumbled something about being called a kid before quickly attempting to settle his wild locks, but the soft smile on the kid's cheeks betrayed his true thoughts on the matter.

With Sam's help, they quickly unloaded the several duffel bags from the trunk and backseat of the Mustang, watched carefully by Shane. One-and-a-half duffel bags filled to the brim with food were the first to be taken and handed off, followed by another bag of medicine and then a bag filled with miscellaneous items they may or may not end up needing. It was better to be safe than sorry, Glenn's mother always said.

In the backseat, they kept a few changes of clothes they scrounged up for Harry, plus a box of comic books courtesy of Sam. Sam had told Glenn that if he had the chance, he wanted to surprise any kids in the camp with them since he didn't have a whole lot of use for them himself. While Sam had been less than friendly when they first met, he had to admit that the teen had quickly grown on him. Glenn still wondered about what happened between Harry and Sam that one night, but he certainly didn't press.

He knew that Harry could use a good friend like Sam, and as long as the teen didn't do anything to intentionally hurt Harry, he would let them do as they please.

* * *

After their rocky introduction to the camp, things began to settle back into normalcy.

Glenn made quick work of unloading all the supplies and stashing them into their respective places. With the game the Dixon's caught, they may have enough food for a couple weeks now. While they had brought back a good amount of non-perishables, their group was also rather large. Even during extreme rationing, they would go through quite a bit each day. Glenn personally didn't think the large group would last much longer under such conditions, but he tried to keep an upbeat attitude to mask his worry.

Sam and Harry were immediately herded over to the kids' group courtesy of Lorey. While Sam made some protest about being referred to as a kid (he was sixteen Goddamnit), the teen easily blended in with the children, handing out comic books and a few figurines out like candy on Halloween.

Harry and Carl hit it off pretty quick, the Grimes' kid pouring over some of Sam's gifted comics with the curious ten year old. Carl's excited whispers about The Hulk carried across the camp, bringing a soft smile to most everyone's faces.

Shane still gave a few suspicious glances towards Sam every once and a while, but the man kept his mouth shut about the matter.

For a while, everything was normal.

* * *

Harry didn't quite know what to make of the group of kids he was very quickly introduced to. For most of his life, Dudley had run off any potential friends, replacing them with bullies and Harry Hunting, leaving him mostly alone. In the span of a few days, he's made two awesome friends, and now there's a group of kids his age not in the least bit scared of him.

It was new, and kind of scary, but he decided that he liked it.

The first kid to introduce himself had been Carl, and then Louis, Eliza, and Sophia, in that order.

Carl was very open and talkative, swiftly dragging Harry into a conversation about a big green monster ("He's a superhero," Carl corrected, smiling). on one of the picture books Sam had brought ("Comic books," Carl supplied). Every question Harry had, Carl would answer without pause or judgment, or even a hint of irritation. Carl was happy to talk, and Harry was happy to listen, and if he had a question, the slightly older boy was more than happy to give an answer.

Harry basked in the warmth of friendship, letting his worries slip away for a few moments. By the time dinner was ready, Carl had flipped through the entire book, and he carefully placed it back inside the box before leading Harry over to the group around the fire.

At first, dinner is quiet as everyone grabbed their plates and begin eating, but as everyone begins to relax, conversation resumes. Of course, the topic is on the newest arrivals, namely Harry.

The first question he was asked was his age, then whether he was from Britain based on his accent. Several more questions were asked, but finally, Lorey asked: "where are your parents, sweetheart?"

Harry immediately lowered his eyes and hunched his shoulders, avoiding eye contact. "They died when I was a baby. My aunt and uncle have been taking care of me since. And I don't know where they are; they left me alone in a hotel room the day of and never came back."

The group fell silent, awkwardness permeating the air. Sensing this, Harry immediately tacked on:

"But it's alright, 'cause I got Glenn and Sam now."

Glenn ruffled his hair from where he sat next to Harry, and Sam snuck him a smile.

His parents were dead, and his aunt and uncle were awful, but he had faith in Glenn and Sam.

* * *

At first, living in tents on the land was rather hard for both Harry and Sam, but they adapted rather quickly. While there was a small period of adjustment, both new members settled in rather well into the group as well.

In the first few days, Sam _had_ gotten into a verbal fight with Dale and Jim over whether his Mustang was worth scrapping for some parts. (Sam refused to budge, banning them from even touching his baby.) However, he did concede to letting them use his stash of coolant and gas so that they could keep the RV properly supplied with AC or heating in case of emergency.

Harry, not knowing what to really do, as he wasn't allowed to actually help around camp, had taken to following the other kids (Carl specifically) around like a lost puppy.

Eventually, Lorey took the boy under her wing and began to teach him alongside the other kids in the camp. For a couple days, Harry really tried to hide his knowledge, afraid that the other kids would get jealous and hate him. Eventually, however, Lorey did catch on to his act and encouraged him to do his best. When Lorey discussed their homework the next time, all of the other kids congratulated him and asked him for help. It made him extremely happy.

When he wasn't doing homework, he and Carl had taken to sitting in the RV's shade to read comic books. No matter how abhorrent his knowledge was on superheroes, Carl never once got mad at him. If he forgot a character's name, Carl would simply tell him again ("That's Hulk and Captain America. Both of them are fighting Loki"). If he couldn't remember their superpower, or he mixed up superheroes and their powers, Carl would just remind him (That's Iron Man, he doesn't really have any powers, unless you count his brain. He made the suit all by himself, isn't that neat?).

Carl quickly became Harry's best friend.

When he wasn't following Carl around or working on homework with the other kids, Harry would occasionally see the other members of the camp.

Daryl and Merle didn't seem all that friendly, especially to the other members of the group, but they mostly left the kids alone. They liked to hunt and bring back squirrels or rabbits almost every day. Harry had never really had squirrel or rabbit before, but they didn't taste too bad. That's another thing he liked here: he was able to eat to his heart's content most of the time, because if there were any leftovers after dinner was served, Lorey liked to give all of the kids a second helping. She said it was because "kids need a lot of good food to grow up strong and healthy."

Carol was really nice, even if she didn't speak much outside of the kids' homework sessions, and she obviously loved Sophie a whole lot. Her husband wasn't all that nice though. He yelled at both Carol and Sophie a lot, and they were always quieter when he was around.

Mr. and Mrs. Morales didn't really talk as much as Lorey or Shane or Glenn did, but they weren't quiet either. Their kids, Louis and Eliza were nice, if soft-spoken as well.

Dale and Jim mostly kept to themselves, one sitting on top of the RV and the other wandering around camp. Dale often would chat with Carl and Harry if they were reading in the RV's shade, sometimes talking about old comics and sometimes talking about random things to fill the silence. He was nice if a bit odd. Harry had no opinion on Jim, as he had never really spoken to the guy.

Andrea and Amy were sisters, and they were really nice. Sometimes, Amy would join them by the RV. She wouldn't say much, just watch Carl and Harry as they read the pages of their comic. Harry once looked up and caught a fond smile on her face before she hid it with a yawn.

Andrea would watch them as well sometimes, but Harry never caught her smiling. Either he couldn't catch her smiling, or she wasn't actually smiling like her sister was.

Lorey was really nice, almost like a mother, or at least what Harry thought a mother might be like. She took care of Carl (and him to an extent), gave him hugs and kisses, and did everything else Harry might think a mother would do. He didn't know what a mother was actually like, as he never had one, but he liked to think he would have had a mother like Lorey.

T-Dog and Jacqui where also really, really nice. Sometimes T-Dog would quiz Harry on what he's learned from his comic sessions with Carl, many times imparting some random fact about one superhero or the other. Jacqui would occasionally give him snacks or even one time she gave him a bracelet she had made out of some clovers. If Lorey was motherly, then Jacqui kind of reminded him of an aunt or even a grandma.

Harry didn't know much about Shane. Shane would occasionally talk to him to make sure he was alright, but he was usually too busy giving everyone orders or instructions to have a proper conversation with him.

Several days pass in almost a daze for Harry. It's been almost three-and-a-half weeks since the apocalypse began, but Harry might as well have been transported to another world entirely, that's how different his life had become. Not only did he actually have friends, but he had a whole bunch of people who didn't immediately hate him because of his relatives! He didn't have to go without a meal, he wasn't punished for being smart on his homework, he had clothes that fit him, and he was truly happy.

He didn't care if the apocalypse never ended if it meant he could be this happy.

 _Oh, how naive he was._

* * *

 **A/N: Hi, I am back. I've had a lot of issues (both personal and motivational) when it came to writing this fic. I apologize for making you guys wait a year-and-a-half for this chapter. I wanted to make it over 6000, but I really couldn't push more into what I already had.**

 **I'm currently in my freshman year of college, so please be patient with me. I really want to continue this story, as I do have a lot of plans for the future with it, it just might take a while to update from time to time depending on my full schedule.**

 **But other than that, I wanted to thank all of you for being awesome! _Stick With Me, Kid, and We'll Go Places_ has almost 30,000 views, 515 favorites, 810 follows, 103 reviews, and it's been added to 13 communities! When I first wrote this story, I had no idea it would go so far, so I wanted to thank you guys from the bottom of my heart, because just seeing the love you guys have for this story motivates me to make this story better (because it can be better). **

**Also, I have edited the past four chapters for grammatical, spelling, and some pacing errors. It didn't change the content by much, but I hope it makes reading easier for newcomers. :)**

 **Happy Writing~!**

 **_-*Doodling Shadows**


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